


now in the dark there is only (yourself and) myself

by romantiser



Category: WTFock | Skam (Belgium)
Genre: Fluff, Happy Ending, Light Angst, M/M, Will edit later, but i am slowly becoming invested, probably makes Zero sense but idc, this started as a joke
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-24
Updated: 2019-11-24
Packaged: 2021-02-26 06:21:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,968
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21549034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/romantiser/pseuds/romantiser
Summary: Robbe had once described the aftermath of a kiss as radioactive; a time where the white noise created so much static in his head that he couldn’t navigate his way out. It had taken the walls he’d built and crumbled them into ashes, destroying every belief he’d ever had.But with Jens, it’s nothing like that.
Relationships: Robbe IJzermans/Jens Stoffels
Comments: 7
Kudos: 97





	now in the dark there is only (yourself and) myself

Robbe doesn’t see it coming.

It’s almost too gradual to notice; one minute they’re laughing about some meme that’s making the rounds on Facebook. It’s a simple one at that, but for the first time in months, Robbe feels comfortable again. He has his best friend back, and even though his mind is still a little chaotic, he’s found ways of learning to cope with it. He tries not to think about the way his arm is pressed up against Jens’ chest, no room between them as night falls, blanketing them in the soft hues of twilight.

He reaches for his phone, fingertips brushing against Jens’.

He blinks, watching as Jens flinches back at the contact. It’s a little strange, but Robbe has no intentions of bringing it up in conversation. Not until Jens practically runs across the room, creating as much distance between them as he possibly can. He only comes to a stop in front of the window, and Robbe tries not to stare at him: pupils blown wide, red tint to his cheeks, messy hair.

Robbe’s chest ignites, setting him alight.

He’s only felt this once before.

Back when Jens was the only one he could see.

Before Robbe dared to admit that he liked boys; before Moyo and Aaron; before everything. Back before he’d spilt his feelings over a cold cup of coffee; about Sander and his mother and how he was suffocating in a world that doesn’t want boys kissing boys and girls kissing girls.

Except Jens was different.

It hadn’t bothered him.

He shrugged it off like Robbe was telling him that the sky was blue in the Summer and grey on the days that the rain lashed down, bouncing off the window panes, lulling them into a brief moment where they felt safe, where they felt loved.

He’d been supportive.

Except...

Maybe he hadn’t been.

Maybe Robbe imagined it, only seeing things he wanted to see. He’d wanted Jens to accept him without hesitation and limitations, and that’s precisely what he got. So the sudden uncertainty that fills the room with silence is like a rock sitting on his chest, tethering him to this very moment.

A single moment that could change everything.

But then Jens is smiling at him, and the world tilts.

There’s always been something unspoken between them; something they haven’t touched on yet, something they should’ve acknowledged months ago. Maybe if they had, Robbe would’ve had Jens to lean on, as well as his guru Milan. If they had, then this moment right here, wouldn’t need to happen.

Robbe can almost picture what he’s thinking.

Or at least, what he might be thinking.

“It was nothing, Jens.”

“What was?”

“What I felt for you,” Robbe says, softly. He tries not to sound hurt when he adds, “It wasn’t serious.”

“Right,” Jens says, “Of course.”

“I mean, I wasn’t sure what I was feeling,” Robbe explains, words coming out too fast for him to stop. “I’d see you with girls, and I was jealous. Of them. Of them with you. But —”

“Robbe.”

“I wasn’t ready to admit it back then—”

“Robbe.”

“I tried not to think about it—”

“I still don’t —”

“Robbe!”

He forgets how to use his words when he realises that Jens’ hand are on his shoulders, gently shaking him back into reality. Robbe’s a little breathless but so is Jens, which doesn’t make sense. None of this makes any sense in Robbe’s muddled brain.

All Robbe knows is that he can’t lose him too.

He’s already lost more than enough in the last couple of months. First his parents, mostly his mother who his heart aches for, his home and then Sander. Sander who still confuses him. Sander who left something of a void that he can’t fill, no matter how much he wants to. No matter how much he tries.

“I’m sorry.”

“Fuck, Robbe,” Jens retorts, startling him. “It’s not you who needs to apologise. I should’ve been there for you. Fuck. I knew you were struggling, but what was I doing? Fucking around with Moyo and Aaron when I should have been here. For _you_.”

“Jens—”

“I’m sorry, Robbe.”

Maybe it’s the way he says it, or maybe Robbe craves the feel of him but a second passes, and then, Robbe is reaching out for him. He tangles his fingers into Jens’ jacket, tugging him in close, clinging on for dear life. They rarely hug; rarely show any emotion other than the quick handshake they do in greeting.

But this:

This is an explosion.

He feels Jens sink into his embrace, wrapping his arms tightly around Robbe’s back, almost like he’s afraid to let go. They stay like that until there’s a knock on the door, but even when they part, Robbe can feel Jens’ hand pressed against his.

A gentle reminder that he’s still there.

He smiles just as Milan appears before them.

“Hey, guru,” Robbe says, grinning.

“Don’t you forget it.”

Milan says something about heading out for the night and that he’ll see Robbe tomorrow. No doubt searching for some gossip on Robbe’s love life. He’s dressed up in a shirt; one that Robbe hasn’t seen him in before. Milan looks good; great even, but Robbe doesn’t voice it out loud—mostly because Milan is the kind of person who always looks good and knows it too.

Milan pulls Robbe in for a hug.

“Have fun on your date.”

Milan leans into Robbe’s ear, whispering, “Maybe you’ll have a date too.”

Robbe pulls away, ready to deny whatever it is that’s running through Milan’s head. He assumes that it’s Sander that he’s referring to, but Milan raises an eyebrow and looks behind him, towards Jens.

“Milan—”

“Have fun, boys.”

Milan flicks Robbe a look that screams “go for it”, but his mind doesn’t quite register it. He doesn’t know what it is he’s supposed to understand. Ar least, not until the moment he turns around to see Jens staring at him so intently that he has to take a step back.

He’s looking at him like Robbe’s the answer to a question he hasn’t asked yet. 

“Milan’s your guru?”

“He gave me advice about Sander.”

“Oh,” Jens mumbles, “Right.”

“He’s been great about everything,” Robbe adds.

“What advice did he give you?”

Robbe glances over to him, trying to gauge why there’s a slight bite to his voice. Jens is hunched over, perched uncomfortably on the edge of Robbe’s bed. His fists are clenched in his lap like he’s only a second away from sinking it into the wall behind him.

Robbe’s never seen him like this before; so unhinged, like a coiled spring ready to snap.

“What is it you want to know, Jens?”

Robbe doesn’t know what he’s expecting. Maybe Jens is homophobic and this talk of Milan and Sander is the catalyst. Maybe Jens secretly hates him and doesn’t want to be friends. Perhaps Robbe has been an awful friend too. Maybe something is eating away at his best friend, and Robbe can’t see it.

Except Robbe knows better than that.

He knows Jens better than that.

Jens exhales, glancing up at him. He looks defeated; like something inside of him is broken. He’s never looked this sad before. Not any time that Robbe can remember. His lips are pulled down into a frown, and all Robbe wants to do is reach across to smooth out the lines, to erase the pain buried there.

“If Sander knocked on your door right now,” he finally asks, softly. “What would you do?”

Robbe doesn’t know.

He’s thought about it. He’s wondered whether he’s strong enough to turn down the first boy (other than Jens) to make him feel something. To flip his whole world upside down, making him question everything. Most days, he’d probably give into Sander, to chase that feeling again, craving the high that comes with being wanted. Other days, he’d shut the door in his face.

But today?

He thinks he’d let Sander in.

If only to see Jens’ reaction.

He knows it’s cruel to toy with other people’s emotions. He knows how it feels, how it can crush someone’s soul and although he’d never actually go through with it, it doesn’t stop him from thinking about it or the warm glow in his chest that it creates. He wants to see how Jens would react. He wants to bear witness to the fear or anger or sadness he thinks he might see. He wants Jens to tell him what it is that he can’t say right now.

He wants Jens to be honest; to be able to speak his mind without fear of retribution.

Robbe doesn’t answer him.

Jens doesn’t ask again.

* * *

Robbe doesn’t see him for three days after that.

He chalks it down to the awkwardness of the last time they hung out. It’s easier than facing the truth, whatever that truth may be. Instead, Robbe buries his head in the sand and hopes that it’ll all blow over; that it’ll be a distant memory neither of them will ever talk about again.

“Robbe?”

Milan is standing before him, a curious gleam to his eyes. It’s Saturday and Milan is still dressed in his robe even though it’s almost three in the afternoon. He doesn’t wait for an invite; Milan walks in and takes a seat on the bed.

“I did want to talk to you, today,” Milan says. “Another guru chat if you will. But that will have to wait for another day.”

“Um, what?”

“There’s someone here to see you—”

“Jens? Is it Jens?”

Milan doesn’t answer.

He only smiles again and then leaves the room.

A minute passes, and then two.

On the third, Robbe’s bedroom door opens.

“Hey, Robbe.”

Robbe breathes out a sigh. “Jens.”

Jens doesn’t look like himself. His face is sullen. There are bags underneath his eyes like he hasn’t slept in months. Maybe he hasn’t. And all Robbe wants to do is hold him. To hug him until he smiles again; until he’s back to the same Jens that he trusted with his entire life.

Until he’s back to being _his_ Jens.

“What’s wrong? Are you OK?”

Jens shakes his head, willing Robbe to shut up.

“Did something happen—”

“Robbe,” Jens cuts him off, voice cracking.

“What is it?”

“Don’t hate me for this.”

Before Robbe can even object, Jens is kissing him.

Robbe had once described the aftermath of a kiss as radioactive; a time where the white noise created so much static in his head that he couldn’t navigate his way out. It had taken the walls he’d built and crumbled them into ashes, destroying every belief he’d ever had.

But with Jens, it’s nothing like that.

Kissing his best friend sends the world, and his mind, quiet.

There’s nothing except this: Jens is kissing him, hands framing Robbe’s face to hold him in place, Robbe’s hands gripping onto his chest. Robbe pulls him closer until their chests are pressed together, each of them delirious with want.

He doesn’t know where his body ends and where Jens’ starts.

“Robbe,” Jens whispers, pulling back.

“Shut up,” is all Robbe can reply.

He doesn’t know who moves first. All he knows is that they’re kissing again, hearts beating wildly under their t-shirts, the faint hum of conversation drifting in from the kitchen and Jens’ fingers intertwined with his. It’s complicated between them now — best friends who kiss without ever really talking about it at the time. But now isn’t the time for consequences. Now isn’t time for anything other than kissing Jens.

Because all that really matters is this: Robbe is a little bit in love with his best friend.

The same best friend that might be a little bit in love with him too.

**Author's Note:**

> [tumblr.com](http://birminghams.tumblr.com)


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